


The Crowned and The Cloaked

by LittleUggie



Series: Works in Progress [3]
Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, Pagan Gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 12:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleUggie/pseuds/LittleUggie
Summary: There are stories older than the Gods themselves. They play out again and again as time unfurls. The chase and capture, The hunter and prey. But who is playing which role is yet unknown.





	The Crowned and The Cloaked

 

The deity had been called many things, titles which were whispered in hushed, frightened tones by parents to their children in warning. The horned God, the Monster of the Wood, the Black Beast, and Maneater are all appellations that had been applied to him by mortals. Usually followed by admonitions to stay out of the forest, especially at night, and always be unfailingly polite to strangers. Throughout his existence there had only been a few monikers that had caught his fancy and he would deign to refer to himself as, but in Truth he, like all the ancient powers, was nameless. Born out of the formless void, shaped by belief and necessity, he Became and Was. He endured while the mortals forgot the past and invented new names for the same being.

He was older than most of their gods. Formed not from civilization, but from the most instinctual fears of humans. The terror of what lurked in the darkness and of what came after. He evolved, of course, he was extremely adaptable. He could put on a cultured front and fit into the new societal roles, but anyone who ever was caught alone in the forest or found their stomach’s cramping with hunger on winter nights knew better. Civilization was a pretty veneer that could not last. He was always there waiting when the lies humans told themselves were stripped away, and all that was left were monsters in the dark.

 

The newer gods, the Pantheon, were creations of the modern age. As humans evolved so did their beliefs which gave rise to the current King of the Gods, a god of justice who was righteous and driven. One determined to “stomp out the darkness” with his Queen, the goddess of Serenity, and his attendants, the gods of Science, Law, and Logic. Now, the dark god had seen many gods rise and fall and transform. Some he found amusing, others he barely noticed. They would pass into obscurity as the humans found something new and shiny to focus their attention on. 

 

However, there was something about this group of upstarts that sparked something...impish in the older being. Perhaps it was the sheer hubris of the leader to think he could defeat that which had stood for millennia before his creation. Or perhaps he was just bored and the arrogant king of the gods provided a convenient outlet. Either way he proceeded to toy with the Pantheon, playing them like pieces in an exceedingly complicated game of which only he knew the rules. In a manner of speaking since he was making them up as he went along. He derived much amusement watching them chase their tails, squawking in outrage, anger, and, yes, fear. 

 

One thing that the dark god did admire in humans was their capacity for creation. He quite enjoyed their music, art, and literature. So it was with some of his favorite works in mind that he began to create gruesome tableaus made out of some of the ruder mortals he had come across. He left these displayed within the temples of the king god. It would have been completely blasphemous if it had not been done by a much older and arguably more powerful entity. Something that the furious Pantheon had not managed to figure out yet. They seemed to be under the impression that a mortal, or perhaps at least a lesser fae had committed the acts. He watched from afar as they had the temples staked out, taking a great deal of pleasure in sneaking the bodies in right under their noses. The mortals themselves were wonderfully fearful, afraid this was the gods punishing them for some transgression or the work of some new cult or sect asserting their doctrine in a particularly violent manner. The resulting chaos on both the divine and mortal realms provided him with the most entertainment he had in centuries..

***

Not every god or divine being was part of a pantheon, much less the one currently en vogue. Some older gods reinvent themselves and join whatever new pantheon comes along. Others were more like independent contractors, fulfilling the same role in many different divisions yet remaining apart from any one group. Still others prefer their solitude, choosing not to get involved with any other divine factions, but still remembered by the mortals in one way or another.

 

The God Cloaked in Raven Feathers tended to fall into the last category, as was his preference. Sometimes he got dragged into Pantheon politics against his better judgement. Also called Seer of Souls, The Diviner, Wayfarer, the God of Strays, Outcasts, and the Lost, and (to those with very,  _ very _ long memories) Harbinger of Wrath and Reckoning, he was not as ancient a being as some, but older than many of the currently popular divinities. He had come into existence with the first creation of human communities, for where there is society, there are those who are on the fringes of it.

 

Despite never being worshiped and upheld as one of the Great Gods, his sect of devout, if not particularly demonstrative, followers was one of the most widespread. This suited him just fine. His disciples were, by the nature of his aspects, mendicants for the most part.That sort of lifestyle did not lend itself to ostentatious ceremony. His shrines and temples are considered safe havens for any wanderers and are often found off the beaten path. They range from slap hazard to sturdily built and well maintained. They are practically stocked and not exceedingly lavish or ornate. Offerings tend to be practical things that those that frequent the shrines can use. Otherwise worshipers leave whatever meaningful odds and ends they have. There is a practice of leaving decorative fishing lures at the shrines as offerings. No one is quite sure where this tradition came from, but over time that is how his sanctuaries were marked, and many of his followers took to wearing fishing lures on their persons particularly ones made of raven feathers. There isn’t really any official order dedicated to him. Those that claim him as a patron are, predictably, nomads and vagabonds. Occasionally prophets and lawmen will also call upon him in their search for truth.  

.

For many centuries the God was content to travel, always trailing a pack of dogs, finding those lost souls and guiding them toward whatever it was they sought. There had been, admittedly, a time when what he had helped them seek was vengeance, but few remember that incarnation of him. Mortals had only brief mentions in dusty tombs that they likely wouldn’t even connect to his current avatar. He knew other gods in passing, and while not bearing animosity toward any of them, he couldn’t say he was exactly friendly either. The closest acquaintanceship he had was with a cheerful goddess of Spring and Fertility. He began to regret cultivating even that relationship as it was through her he was first brought to the attention of the Pantheon’s King. 

 

The guise of the head god was that of a powerful man of middling age, with dark skin and greying hair. He conveyed wisdom and strength. At turns he could be gentle then violent, merciful then ruthless. His Queen radiated poise and vitality. They sat in matching thrones built of carved marble, hands joined when the Cloaked God arrived at their palace high upon a mountain. He was annoyed to be summoned as if he was one of the king’s subjects. He had no quarrel with the pantheon, but neither did he submit to their rule. Still, he would hear the other god out in deference to his friend, the Blooming Goddess who had made ties with the group. So there he stood, feeling like a dark stain in the pristine room of white marble with one of his loyal hounds at his heels. 

 

“We appreciate you coming.” The king’s voice was like distant thunder. “We have heard tell of your...unique abilities.” 

 

“You’ll have to be more specific.” His own voice was closer to a rasp, dead leaves rustling in the autumn wind. “I have many abilities, though I don’t know how unique they are.” 

 

He could see the king’s jaw tighten at his disrespectful tone. His wife rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and some of the tension left his shoulders. She responded in a tone of rolling tides and warm sunshine. 

 

“We hope you would be willing to help us capture a monster..” 

 

The Cloaked god’s eyebrows raised. “The temple killer?” 

 

The king nodded grimly. “The mortals have taken to calling it The Ripper. We are concerned that their fear may only be making whatever is doing this stronger.”

 

“So you do not believe it is the work of humans?” 

 

The Queen answered again. “We don’t see how they would be able to hide themselves so completely from us. No, it has to be something from our realm.” 

 

“It is said that you receive revelation through your Sight. If anyone can find this monster, it’s you.”

 

“Innocents are dying and the mortals are losing faith. Please, help us.” The Queen’s voice was pained, and the Cloaked God had always had a soft spot for the desperate. Though they hid it well, the royal couple was most definitely growing desperate.

 

“I will observe the murder sites and see if I can glean any more information for you. I don’t know how much help I will be actually discovering whomever or whatever is committing them.”

 

“If you can help us find out what it is, we can take care of the capture. You will not be alone in this, my attendants and I will assist you however we can. It is in everyone’s best interest that the Ripper is stopped.” 

 

***  
The Dark God stalks in the shadows of the forest trees, following the measured pace of the Seer caught in his trance. He is beautiful in the moonlight, skin pale and glowing against the blackness of the feathers he is draped in. The Dark God is intrigued by this new game piece, the wild card in the deck. This one is different than the glittering throng on their high mountain. He walks through the woods with the familiarity and ease of a wild creature. Whether he is prey or predator is yet to be determined. His pack encircle him. They are intelligent beasts, and sense the presence of the Dark God, closing rank around their master in his vulnerable state as if that could stop him. They needn’t worry. For now he is content to simply watch the roaming god to see what he’ll do. 


End file.
